


Bundled Up

by through_shadows_falling



Series: Supernatural Ficlets [46]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas Fluff, First Kiss, Knitting, M/M, Scarves, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 23:29:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5474504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/through_shadows_falling/pseuds/through_shadows_falling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel, Angel of the Lord, had far too many scarves. Or at least that was Dean’s opinion on the matter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bundled Up

Castiel, Angel of the Lord, had far too many scarves. Or at least that was Dean’s opinion on the matter.

It started in November, after they finished a hunt. With the ghost salted and burned, Dean suggested they just drive straight home without stopping. It was only about seven hours, so he knew he could pull it off despite his body’s protests. He wasn’t young anymore, and his joints creaked in the now-wintry weather. 

Sam didn’t argue, and sat in the passenger’s seat, yawning.

Castiel took his place in the backseat, his gaze out the window. 

Dean’s eyes flicked to him in the rear-view mirror as he drove. He smirked. He remembered when Castiel first joined them on hunts, what seemed like forever ago. The angel had still partially had a stick up his ass then, and used to hold himself deadly-still when riding in the Impala.

Now, though, he’d experienced humanity and been on earth long enough that he started to wriggle the more that time passed. It was a very human reaction to being cooped up in a small space for a long period of time, and it made Dean’s lips twitch in amusement. 

They came to a stoplight, and as Dean eased up on the accelerator, Castiel broke the silence. 

“There’s a holiday craft bazaar today.”

Dean glanced back and followed Castiel’s pointing to a sign blowing in the wind, staked near a telephone pole. 

“That could be interesting,” Sam said.

Dean frowned. “Wait, what? I thought we were driving straight home.”

Sam shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind stopping.”

Dean opened his mouth, but was interrupted by Castiel.

“I would like to stop as well.”

Dean snapped his mouth shut and rolled his eyes. “Fine, Martha Stewart. We’ll stop so we can buy some homemade doilies for the bunker.”

Sam snorted, but Castiel perked up. 

“I’m excited to see what’s there. Humans are so clever in what they create.”

Dean grumbled under his breath, but when the light turned green, he followed signs to the bazaar which was located in the gymnasium of a local high school. He parked and they all clambered out. 

Inside the crowded venue, vendors had set up tables throughout the gym. Families pressed together, commenting on the wares, and children shoved by them chattering about the candy they were going to buy with the five dollars they’d gotten from their parents.

To say Dean felt out of place was well, pretty exact. They garnered a number of suspicious and curious looks, probably because they were three burly dudes that towered over everyone. He was glad that they’d cleaned up from the hunt, at least, so no one would panic at the sight of bloodstains or open wounds.

They lost Sam somewhere around the soap vendors, which Dean had to admit did smell pretty good. He figured Sam was going to buy himself some girly natural shampoo for his “luscious locks,” so he let him be and instead stuck with Castiel, who was far more entertaining.

The angel was fascinated by everything, and reverently ran his hands over anything in reach. Dean, though, wasn’t that impressed. Most of the vendors sold jewelry, and those that had holiday items were seriously ripping people off. All they’d done was buy some candy, stuck it in a jar, and then slapped a ribbon on top of it. Anyone could make the same for  _way_  less than the eight dollars they demanded, no matter how nice it looked. 

Where Castiel was truly transfixed, however, was the row of handmade knitted items. Cotton, wool, even alpaca–in a million shapes, sizes, and colors. Even Dean couldn’t resist touching them because, damn, the alpaca items were the softest things he’d ever felt in his life.

Castiel set his eye on a red and yellow striped scarf that had been handcrafted from an old woman behind the table. She made small talk with Castiel as Dean subtly checked the price. 

Holy shit, twenty-five dollars for one scarf? That was way too much. No way that was happening–

“I’d like this one, please,” Castiel said, and passed the woman her money.

“Dude,” Dean said, but when Castiel turned to him, he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say.

“I do have my own money, Dean,” Castiel said finally as the woman gave him change. 

“Did you want this in a bag, or are you going to wear it out?” she asked with a wink.

“I’ll wear it,” Castiel said, and he winked right back. 

Dean resisted smacking himself, especially when Castiel wrapped the scarf around his neck once, twice, and then three times so he looked like a turtle with his head poked out of the top.

Dean snickered but then grinned at the truly content expression on the angel’s face. 

“It’s very soft,” Castiel said as they headed toward the door. Dean reached up to feel for himself, and then nodded in agreement.

“Oh. Yeah. Wow.”

“Looks like you got something nice,” Sam said as he appeared at their side with a paper bag in hand. 

“What did you get?” Castiel asked.

Sam withdrew some soaps and bottles of lotion and shampoo. He repeated the spiel he must’ve heard from the salesperson where he bought the stuff. 

Dean stifled a laugh at the intense look Castiel wore as he absorbed Sam’s words. He appeared most interested when Sam talked about the table that sold honey and beeswax products from their own hives. 

“I wish I’d seen that,” Castiel said. 

“Next time,” Sam said, but Dean didn’t think much more of it.

Until the next weekend, when Castiel produced a newspaper ad (who knew where he’d gotten it) for another craft fair a few hours away. He had been hanging out with Sam too much, because Dean couldn’t resist the pull of his puppy eyes. 

But then the next weekend, he found another one to go to. And the next weekend, and the next. They weren’t exactly busy with hunts, yet Dean couldn’t believe how much time they were spending out and about at these stupid local events. Each outing was basically the same, though sometimes it was only Dean and Castiel since Sam was busy doing whatever he did.

Dean had yet to buy anything, but Castiel insisted on a new scarf each time. 

“To give them monetary praise for their efforts,” he explained, as he wrapped himself in a pink polka-dotted scarf. 

“Yeah, sure,” Dean muttered, but even he wasn’t enough of an ass to ignore the peaceful set to Castiel’s shoulders. He clearly liked doing these kind of normal, human things, so who was Dean to tell him no? Even though he was spending way too much money.

By the time Christmas rolled around, Castiel had a drawer bursting with scarves. Dean only knew because Castiel had dragged him into his room to show him.

“Dude, are you even going to wear all of these?” Dean asked, his eyebrow raised. 

But Castiel remained defiant. “Of course I will.”

And he did. For every hunt they went on that winter, Castiel wore a different scarf. Green with purple fringe. Blue with white snowmen. Black- and yellow-striped, like a bumblebee. A freaking Minion scarf, with yellow and blue overalls, and big stupid-looking eyes which Castiel defended as ‘cute,’ even though Dean wanted to murder the pop culture phenomenon with an ax. 

Frankly, Castiel looked ridiculous. The trench coat was bad enough, but showing up to gank monsters with the puffy tassels of a burgundy scarf fluttering around his neck was just…silly. Monsters literally laughed at him. 

Before Castiel kicked their asses, of course. So maybe it was worth it.

And maybe Dean thought Castiel looked cute all bundled up and warm. 

And maybe he wasn’t looking forward to spring as much, since Castiel wouldn’t wear the scarves anymore. 

And maybe, just maybe, Dean was thinking of taking up knitting. Maybe. 

Oh, who was he kidding? 

On a supposed beer run in January, Dean snuck to the local library to check out some DIY knitting books. Which then required him to run to a craft store for some needles and yarn. 

Jesus Christ he was turning into a grandma.

But every time he cracked open the book and picked up his needles in the safety of his room, he imagined the expression on Castiel’s face when he received what Dean made. If he liked homemade things from strangers, imagine his reaction to something a close friend had created just for him.

Dean’s first scarf came out horribly, though, so he had to start over. 

For his second attempt, he chose yarn with a marbled blue color, so it naturally changed as he knitted and he didn’t need to worry about a more serious pattern.  

Slowly, over January and into February, the dark blue morphed into light blue. This one came out much better than the first, with consistent stitches, and no huge gaps. When Dean finished it, he held it up to admire it.

“Not bad,” he said. But was it good enough for Castiel’s collection? 

It would have to do.

Dean initially didn’t realize the timing, as he wandered into Castiel’s room one day while the angel was in the kitchen with Sam. But as he set the scarf down on Castiel’s bed, he realized it was close to Valentine’s Day. 

Shit. Dean didn’t want Castiel to think this had anything to do with…with their… _friendship_. Because Dean definitely didn’t think of Castiel as more than a friend. 

Definitely not.

Only, just as he turned to leave, he found Castiel in the doorway, a fond expression on his face. 

“What’s that?” he asked as he stepped inside.

Suddenly, Dean couldn’t move or speak. 

Castiel gently picked up the scarf. “Did you…get this for me?”

Dean had to cough to clear his throat. “Um. Well. No. I, uh… Okay, don’t laugh, but I knitted it for you.” He winced.

But Castiel gazed at him in wonder. “You made this for me?”

Dean shuffled on his feet. “Yeah. You know, to add to your collection or whatever.”

A grin split Castiel’s face. “It’s lovely, Dean. And very soft.”

“I know you like soft things,” Dean said, and mentally cringed at how horrible that sounded. 

But Castiel’s face just brightened. “I do. Thank you so much, Dean. It’s beautiful.”

“Try it on before you say that,” Dean said, and he stepped forward to drape it around Castiel’s neck. “There.”

Castiel smiled at him from within the depths of the scarf, and Dean was blown away by how blue his eyes looked. He’d picked the right color yarn for sure. 

“You, uh, you look good,” Dean said, his voice gruff. He turned to leave, but Castiel grabbed his sleeve.

“Wait, no, I have something for you.” He yanked open his scarf drawer and rooted around inside. Finally, he pulled out a long, green scarf very similar to the one Dean had knitted, since it had no extra adornments. “Here,” Castiel said, as he wove it around Dean’s neck. “This one’s for you.”

“You don’t need to give me anything,” Dean said, although the scarf was already in place. 

Castiel just shook his head. “I saw that one a week ago and I wasn’t sure when to give it to you, since Christmas and your birthday are already past. It…reminded me of you. It brings out your eyes.”

Dean sucked in a breath as Castiel moved toward him. The scarf was soft and warm on his neck, and his whole body radiated with Castiel’s heat as the angel stopped right in his personal space.

“Cas,” Dean said, his voice choked. 

“Dean.” Castiel leaned forward. “Is this okay?” he whispered, his breath hot in Dean’s face.

Dean nodded, though the movement was hindered by the scarf. He couldn’t breathe when Castiel’s lips met his, but then he sighed. Castiel pulled back, but Dean didn’t want it to stop, so he captured the angel in a longer, deeper kiss. 

Their scarves pressed up against each other as they embraced, and Dean felt warmer and safer than he had in a long time. And when Castiel unwound his scarf to tie it around Dean and drag him closer, well, who was he to complain? 

So an Angel of the Lord loved scarves, and had far more than was necessary.

So what?


End file.
